Poor Old Terrible Billy Came To Water Early, And I Was Much Pleased With His Appearance, But His Little House Not Being Quite Ready And The Bags Not Completed, He Has A Day Or So Longer Of Grace.

I had looked forward eagerly to the time of the autumnal equinox, in hopes of rain.

But all we got, however, was three dry thunderstorms and a few drops of rain, which fell upon us en route to some more favoured land. The next day being Sunday, we had a day of rest.

Near the place to which I had been dragged, there were several little heaps of stones, or rather, as a general rule, small circles of piled-up stones removed from where they had formerly lain, with the exception of a solitary one left in the centre. For what purpose the natives could have made or cleared these places I cannot tell; they were reserved for some ceremonies, no doubt, like those at Gill's Pinnacle. The last few days have been very cool, the thermometer indicating one day only 78 degrees in the shade. On the 25th Gibson took the shovel to open out the springs formerly mentioned; they lie in the midst of several little clumps of young eucalyptus suckers, the ground all round being a morass, in which a man might almost sink, were it not for the thick growth of rushes. The water appears to flow over several acres of ground, appearing and disappearing in places. The moment a small space was cleared of the rushes, it became evident that the water was perpetually flowing, and we stood on rushes over our ankles in black soil.

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